


Difference and Sameness

by Hekate1308



Series: Sherlock Holmes/Sally Donovan Universe [9]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-30
Updated: 2013-10-30
Packaged: 2017-12-30 21:59:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,801
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1023871
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hekate1308/pseuds/Hekate1308
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Maybe there's one personality trait that Sherlock Holmes shares with other men.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Difference and Sameness

There is no question about it: Sally’s life has changed drastically in the last few years. Ever since Sherlock jumped (though she didn’t know it at that time) it has changed, solid earth changing into swirling mist, at first so subtly that she almost didn’t realize it, then a little more – if you could resurrection call “a little” – then more and more, and finally, just one big moment where her life as it was ended and this new life she is now leading and loving began. If she compares her two lives now – there’s no question which one she’d choose. Again and again, if necessary.

She does, however, admit: Befriending Sherlock Holmes, after he’d come back from the dead, is one thing; being in a relationship with him quite another.

Before, she had a routine. True, it was the most boring – or, as Sherlock would put it – “dullest” routine imaginable, but it was a routine. She stood up, she worked, she got home, she went to bed, she repeated the routine. Then the routine had suddenly incorporated waking up or falling asleep to the sound of Sherlock’s violin, eating with him, talking to him, laughing with him. And then, well – they started their relationship, and every routine she had just fled out of her life, shattered at her feet, never to return, but she’s never been happier in her life.

They fight, they make up, they spend on average several nights a week together – by now, it’s normal for her to slip out of his bed in 221B and find John in the kitchen with three cups of coffee – now and then he touches her shoulder at crime scenes, while Anderson (sometimes she wonders what she ever saw in him. Then again, it really feels like a different life, thinking about it now. So she doesn’t bother to for long). He listens to her – most of the time anyway – and if he remembers, or John reminds him (which doesn’t happen as often as she’d like, but she’ll take what she can get), he lets her know what they are up to. All in all, they make it work. Though the irony that the relationship that turns out to be the best one she’s ever had is the one she has with a self-proclaimed high-functioning sociopath she spent years hating (this memory stings a little, although he never brings it up, and in fact, she’s rather certain he has deleted it) doesn’t escape her. But she doesn’t mind the irony if it means that they can go on like this. 

 It’s not only that, for the first time in her life, she has a relationship that actually deserves that name. It’s also the fact that suddenly, she has quite a lot of friends, all following in Sherlock’s wake. She has tea with Mrs. Hudson, she talks to John, she goes to Greg for advice whenever something seems to go wrong, and she suspects it won’t be long now until she gets kidnapped by Mycroft – Sherlock seems to think so too, though even he can’t foresee that she’s planning to force the brothers to talk properly to each other again. At least from time to time. She knows they care about each other.  
She even has coffee with Molly now and then, and the pathologist isn’t as jealous as some would believe – contrary to popular believe, Dr Hooper apparently always knew that her crush could come to nothing, and, of course, all those who think that she is jealous don’t know that her and Greg have grown quite close lately. Sally is happy for them; they deserve each other.

She’s almost forgotten about Mike Stamford, thinking about her new, different life. Every time they meet at Bart’s – and, these days, she spends rather a lot of her time there, seeing as Sherlock loves experimenting and she lo– likes him well enough (not ready for that big scary word yet) not to say anything about it when he doesn’t show up when he’s supposed to, but rather goes there to make him eat or go home with her (and, to his credit, usually he’s just forgotten to check the time) – the teacher greets her and calls her Sally; apparently he’s decided that any friend of Sherlock’s and John’s is his friend too, and she’s quite happy with that fact.

But even in such a strange, bizarrely wonderful, quite well-functioning relationship as theirs – now and then, she is alone, and this is when she begins to wonder. She doesn’t doubt that Sherlock is committed to their relationship, but it’s entirely new territory for him, and the three years he spent without any real human contact, trying to destroy Moriarty’s web, had to leave some traces, especially since he’s never been the most sociable of men to begin with.

He doesn’t appreciate public displays of affection, for one thing. She doesn’t say anything against that, would never say anything against that, especially as he never tries to hide their relationship; when someone asks, he simply answers “We’re together”, curtly as always. But still – sometimes she’d like to hold his hand. Or kiss him hello. Though not at crime scenes, obviously. That would just be wrong (but, it’s rather embarrassing to admit, she has to remind herself of this by now; once you let your boyfriend keep body parts in your fridge because the one at 221B is full, proper social etiquette becomes a term for a thing other people engage in, really).

But she’ll take what she can get.

Even though there is that little voice in her head that asks her if she really believes he’s as committed to the relationship as she is. Yes, they sleep together and call themselves a couple – but for him, that might just be the logical consequence of them sleeping together.

So, when he forgets to call her, when he disappears for a few days while investigating a case, when he doesn’t remember that they’re supposed to meet and instead performs God-knows-which experiment on a body part at St Bart’s or somewhere else so she can’t find him, there’s always this tiny bit of doubt, this small thought in the back of her head that whispers what if.

She takes this to be something she has to live with because she chose to be in a relationship with Sherlock Holmes (though she couldn’t choose to fall in love with him, naturally, she was already right in the middle of that when she realized what was happening). Until the day she meets DI Gregson at a crime scene Sherlock is just looking at, that is.

DI Gregson is tall and quite handsome, she will admit that, although he’s blond and has blue eyes, and she has always had a preference for dark-haired men. But he’s a nice boss – Greg is on a seminar once again, the Chief Superintendent forces him to hold them regularly, must be his very own way of punishing their DI for coming out of the investigation clean – and he likes to flirt, something she rather enjoys too.

Sherlock is just looking over the corpse of Violet Melton, a young college student who was last seen leaving her mother’s house over a week ago and was found dead just this morning in an alleyway, but there are no marks of coercion on the body, and she appears to be well fed – although she is wearing a dress that would fit better in the 1920s Jazz era than London in the twenty-first century, and her mother told the police she never owned such a dress. Of course, Sherlock is absolutely fascinated. He’s alone for once; John has a shift at the clinic, though that gets more and more rare these days, and she suspects that he’s going to be Sherlock’s full-time partner in crime rather soon.

She’s just admiring his movements, when someone clears his throat next to her. She looks to her right and sees Gregson. She smiles. “Sorry, sir, I was just – “

“Admiring the view?” he asks, winking at her. She colours a little; her relationship with Sherlock is no secret at the Yard. Especially since Anderson found out.

“So the rumours were true” he states, good-naturedly. “Tell me, Sergeant” and he moves closer to her, “how does one get to date a pretty intelligent woman like you these days?”

“If you ask Anderson” she replies, eyes sparkling, “by being a “psycho who is sure to strangle her in her sleep”, sir. Though I think it’s more to do with being handsome and polite, so your chances aren’t that bad.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll just wait for you”.

“Might be a long wait”.

“Even better” he says, and she can see he means it and is rather happy for her, so she smiles.

But Sherlock doesn’t seem to have followed their conversation. In fact – when she looks towards him again, he’s scrutinizing her and Gregson, and she suddenly feels rather exposed. His eyes are dark, and for one crazy moment she thinks he might actually look jealous, but that’s impossible, of course. Sherlock Holmes doesn’t get jealous.

Or he didn’t get jealous until now, because suddenly he strides over and plants himself very deliberately between her and DI Gregson. “Inspector, the victim went with someone she trusted – I believe she never even knew her mother had reported her missing. Her make-up is done professionally – I suspect she went to a photographer to become a professional model. Pay a call to all modelling agencies; there is every reason to believe that a man like that would have been noticed for strange behaviour before today.”

“Will do” Gregson answers, but before he turns around, he whispers in Sally’s ear “So I just made the Yard’s wonder boy jealous, hm? Not bad for a guy as old as me”. Then he turns around, grinning, and Sherlock looks so adorably miserable that she breaks her own rule and takes his hand. Never mind the crime scene now.

“My God, Sherlock – you weren’t really jealous, right?”

He looks sheepish. “You did look rather – you were standing quite closely, I mean. And, objectively speaking, he is an attractive man, I su–“

Seeing he’s trying to make it seem logical, she silences him with a quick kiss on his lips. “Yes, freak, but he’s a bit too normal for me. I don’t know if you noticed – but I prefer them crazier. And maybe a bit homicidal”.

He smiles his half smile at that, gives her, to her surprise, another quick kiss and sweeps of to the body again, while she is looking after him, face glowing like that of a besotted teenager.

The doubt has gone. And maybe, just maybe, she found something about Sherlock Holmes that’s not at all different from other men.     


End file.
